


Cherry

by jessonthecoast



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessonthecoast/pseuds/jessonthecoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of Nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry

After a long day at work, Ian came home around 8 or so to see his family, who each mumbled their hello’s, all nestled in watching _The Hunger Games_. Fiona was curled up on one of the recliners with a cup of coffee resting in her hands; Lip had Mandy sitting on his lap on the other recliner; Debbie, Carl, and Liam were smashed together on the opposite side of the couch as Veronica, Kevin, and their 3 year old named Kevin Jr. but was more often called KJ; all there. Ian headed towards the kitchen to see if there was any food left over because he hadn’t eaten since around noon.

When Fiona saw Ian walk in, she followed him into the kitchen and noticed that it seemed like there was something off about him.

“Hey,” Fiona said, taking a sip from her cup and leaning against the sink. “You never came home last night.”

“I didn’t leave for another four-year tour, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Ian replied. _Typical Fi_ , Ian thought to himself as he found some cold Mac and Cheese that he stuck in the microwave, pressed some buttons, and watched the glass container start spinning around.

She has a reason to be worried, a logical reason really. When one of your brothers, a kid who you have legal guardianship over, up and leaves without a damn word to anybody for a four-year tour God knows where, it’s hard to not worry about him when he doesn’t come home at night.

“Not funny,” she told him to which Ian replied with an apology. After a minute or so of silence, Fiona asked much more calmly, “Where were you?”

“I just stayed at Mickey’s,” he said as he pulled the glass dish out, grabbed a spoon and started eating. The response didn’t exactly thrill Fiona, seeing as how that Milkovich kid was part of the reason why Ian left, so Lip tells it. Seeing the look on her face made Ian swallow the food he was chewing and expand his previous statement. “It got kinda late and I didn’t want to walk home, so I just stayed there.”

“A call would have been nice,” she countered and Ian apologized once more. “The next time you ‘stay late’, wear a condom.”

Ian turned his back to her, trying to hide the smile and the blood the rushed to his cheeks, and started walking towards the stairs when he called back loud enough for her to hear, “He did.”

Fiona’s jaw dropped a bit with those two words and it almost made her drop her mug. There was a slight smile playing at the corner of her lips and it started to fade when she figured out why Ian seemed _off_ when he walked in the house. Her brother doesn’t typically walk with a hitch in his step and a slight grimace on his face after taking each step. Sure, Ian works long hours at the Kash ‘n’ Grab but he doesn’t complain about his body aching and if it did, he certainly didn’t show. After coming to such realizations, the ending of the conversation they had made more sense. Fiona let go of her cup and brought her hands to her mouth to try to muffle the noises the threatened to escape.

Lip walked over just in time to catch the cup as it slipped out of her hands. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation. Good thing I did. We’ve finally got a not extremely shitty set of dishes again,” he told her as he recalled about four years ago when Fiona found out that Ian left for the Army. It was more like the Week of Broken Glass as opposed to a day. No one was safe from Fiona’s wrath. But that wasn’t the only thing that she was told that night. She also found out that Jimmy died. The following week was rough. Hearing that the Squirrel Fund had been pilfered for drugs by Monica and Frank sucked. Finding out that Frank might not be around much longer, that was hard. But hearing that Jimmy was dead and her brother had left his family for four years… That was almost unbearable. She was constantly screaming at the kids, no one wanted to be around her for too long or phrase something wrong in fear of a something being hurled in their direction. Kev and V had to practically strap her down because she couldn’t stop throwing things at people or throwing tantrums.

Apparently Mandy was also lurking around the corner with Lip because she came and hopped up on the counter.

Fiona’s hands were still cupping her face when she mumbled out, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, Fi,” Lip told her, trying to be reassuring. “What’s in the past is in the past.”

“Well, apparently not because Ian and Mickey are still…doing whatever it is that they do.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘whoever’” Lip countered.

“And it sounded like they’re doing each other,” Mandy said with a smile on her lips. “God, it sounded like a porno last night.”

“I always figured Ian to be a noisy little dude.”

“It wasn’t just Ian...”

“Oh my God, can both of you just stop talking!” Fiona hissed at them. She would have been louder but was it really necessary for the _whole_ family to be aware of what was going on at the Milkovich house last night?

“Stop talkin’ about what?” Veronica asked as she strolled into the kitchen with KJ on her hip and Kevin in tow.

“Nothin’, V,” Fiona said. “Look, we gotta talk about this party for Ian tomorrow. It’s supposed to start at 9.”

“I’ll bring a few cases of beer. It’ll be there on time,” Kevin said.

“Kids can’t drink beer so I guess I’ll try and get some hot chocolate.” Fiona said.

“I’ll be making a few dishes of lasagna tomorrow. I think Debs is making cookies or something,” Veronica told them.  

“Lip and I can go find some speakers and a stereo to steal for music,” Mandy offered.

“Thanks, but I’ve got that covered.” Fiona told her.

Mandy rolled her eyes and asked if Lip was going to head to bed soon.

“Yeah. I’ll be up in a bit.”

She pressed her lips against his before leaving for their bedroom. It wasn’t until she was gone for a minute that Fiona spoke again.

“Why is she here again? She has her own room at her own house.”

“She told me that she let Mickey have it for the weekend.”

“It’s Thursday! It’s not even the weekend yet!”

Lip shrugged his shoulders and started to follow the footsteps Mandy took a minute ago but when he reached the bottom step, there was Ian with his duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. Everyone in the kitchen turned to look at him, all with different versions of confusion painted on their faces. Except Lip, he just looked smug.

Ian looked at each face and then back at his brother. “What?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Lip said as he smiled.

“I’ll just be at Mickey’s if you need anything,” Ian told them with a hesitant tone in his voice and an equally confused look on his face as the rest of the people in the kitchen. “Party starts at 9, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Fiona muttered, trying to sound upbeat.

After Ian left and Lip finally went upstairs, Kevin asked “What the hell was all that about?”

“Nothing,” Fiona and Veronica said in unison. Kevin raised his hands in defense and then folded them across his chest.

“I think we’ll head out,” Veronica said. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

With a few hugs passed around, they were out the door and Fiona was shooing the kids up the stairs. Final sweep of the house, making sure the doors were locked, the floor was clean of clothes, and the kids all in their beds, Fiona finally passed out.

* * *

 

The clinking of metal on metal, the whipping of belts, and the sound of zippers signaled the end of another Gallagher/Milkovich session in the fridge at the Kash ‘n’ Grab.

“So uh, see you at the party?” Ian asked with his voice slightly muffled through the cotton of the t-shirt he was trying to pull on.

“The fuck else am I going to do? The whole goddamn town is going to be there to welcome back the army brat,” Mickey said while he was winding his tattered green scarf around his neck.

“Not cool, Mick,” Ian said, faking exasperation. “And it’s not the whole town. It’s just my family and Mandy.”

“Yeah, whatever. Can I bring my brothers?” Mickey asked as he went to go open up the door to the back room.

“Yeah, sure,” Ian told him.

“K, I’ll get there when I get there.” And just like that he was gone.

Ian however, was still there. He still had to count the money in the cash drawer and put it in the safe, turn off the lights, and close up the store before he got to leave. Ten minutes later, all those things were completed and Ian was out the door to his Welcome Back party.

The party was a couple blocks away in a vacant lot that the police, with some strings pulled by Tony, let them use. It was kind of a string of persuasion. Fiona and Veronica cozied up to Tony and convinced him to talk to his boss about letting them use it for the event. A few low-cut shirts here, a couple of extra nightshifts there, and the lot was theirs for the night. Or for however long people could stand the cold.

The snow was coming down in light flakes, blanketing the streets and the cars with a fresh sheet of white over the brown and gray tinged slush. The smell of burning wood could be smelled from a block away. It smelled like smoke and pine. Ian was already warming at the thought of being able to stand around the fire with his family.  

When he arrived, there was a paper plate of something in each of their hands. Upon closer inspection, Ian could see that it was lasagna. Veronica’s lasagna. They were all huddled around the fire but when they saw him, they dropped their plates on the table holding the food and ran over to hug him. Fiona, Debbie, Carl, and Liam fit inside of his arms while Veronica and Kevin hugged the side of him and Mandy and Lip covered his other side. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until he felt the heat from the fire radiating off of the bodies surrounding him. He reveled in the warmth until the arms started to fall and they took a few steps back to give him some space.

“Welcome back, Ian!” Debbie shouted, jumping up and down.

“Thanks Debs,” he said, kissing the side of her head.

“Een! Een!” Liam said excitedly. That was the nickname that Liam had to use because he was still having trouble saying his real name.

“Yeah, buddy?” he asked as he bent down and placed his hands on his knees.

“Onica made some zagna!”

“Well, I think I might have to go try some,” Ian said, letting Liam grab his hand lead him over to the table where there were a few half-empty dishes of lasagna, some cookies, and a case and a half of beer left.

“Hey guys,” Fiona said more to Debbie, Carl, and Liam. “Why don’t you guys go build a snowman?”

“You know, we’re not kids anymore, Fiona,” Carl told.

“Yeah, we’re practically adults,” Debbie informed.

“Right,” Fiona said, nodding her head. “Snowman. Go.”

As if they practiced synchronizing it, their eyes rolled in unison. Regardless, they left to go construct a man made out of snow. Ian looked around and realized that he hadn’t noticed when Veronica, Kevin, Lip, and Mandy had left. They were sitting in folding chairs near the fire. Kevin had Veronica and KJ in his lap and Mandy was in Lip’s. It was just Fiona and him standing near the food.

“I still hate you for leaving.”

                After swallowing his food, Ian said, “Yeah, I know you do, Fi.” He threw his plate away even though he only ate about half of the plate’s contents. “I could sit here and apologize all day but I’m not sorry for leaving.”

                Fiona turned to look at him, looked more like she was about to punch honestly, so he continued.

                “I’m sorry for leaving the family but I’m not sorry for leaving. I stand by what I did.”

                “Yeah, but you could have said something to somebody. We were all going out of our minds wondering what happened to you. Did you even stop to think about what it would do to us?”

                “Yeah, I did. But I had to go anyways. I had to do something for me.”

                “Well, you kind of screwed everyone over,” Fiona replied. The anger in her voice had faded into slight irritation.

                “I’m sorry about that,” Ian told her, he meant it.

                “I’m glad you came back though.” Fiona placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder and turned him so he was facing her. Her hands wound around him and held him tightly.

                Ian rested his head next to Fiona’s, folded his arms around her back, and whispered back, “Yeah, me too.” He had been on the receiving end of a lot of hugs since he got back, but this one had the most heart in it. There was no doubt that everyone had missed him, but Fiona was more like a mom to him than his own mother.

                “Touch football anyone?” Kevin shouted, holding the football aloft in one hand.

                “We’re in,” Mickey shouted.

                Letting Fiona go, Ian turned to see Mickey walking over with two of his brothers, Iggy and Joey. Ian smirked at Mickey but he only nodded his head at him as an acknowledgement. The three Milkovich boys each grabbed a beer and some food and started walking towards where the game was getting set up.

                “Should be fun,” Mickey said, walking past Ian but took a second to kick him in the ass, causing his knees to buckle slightly, Mickey he walked away.

“So, us against the Milkovichs? What could possibly go wrong?” Lip asked. That comment earned him a punch in the arm from Mandy.

“Let me guess, the chicks are going to be cheerleaders?” Iggy laughed and his brothers joined in. Fiona, Debbie, and Veronica all glared at them.

“Hell no, I want in on this,” Mandy chimed in.

“Okay, looks like it’s gonna be four against four. Me, Lip, Ian, and Carl against Iggy, Joey, Mickey, and Mandy,” Kevin shouted. “Reminder, this is _touch_ football, Milkovichs.” He gave a look to each one of them, making sure that they at least heard the message. “The trash cans that are at either end of the field are where the end zones are.” Kevin pulled a quarter out of his pocket and asked “Who wants to call it?”

“I will,” Mickey told him.

Kevin placed the coin on his thumb and flicked into the air. All heads followed it up as it rotated in the air.

“Tails,” he called as he smirked at Ian.

Ian lowered his eyes and looked at Mickey just long enough to see that smirk but just then, the coin fell into Kevin’s hands and he flipped it over.

“It’s tails. Kicking or receiving?”

“Kicking,” Joey said with a grin.

“Okay, it’s a six point game. Each goal is one point. Let’s do this,” Kevin said, clapping his hands.

Each team went to either side of the field and got in their positions, the Milkovichs had the ball. There wasn’t a kicking tee so Mandy had to squat down with her pointer finger holding up the football while Joey kicked and sent it flying in the other direction. Kevin and the rest of the Gallaghers followed the direction that the ball was headed and started running towards it. Carl was the one to catch the ball about 20 yards away from the end zone. After it was secured in his grasp, he ran as fast as he could but the other team stopped him when was ¾ of the way there. The ball was then placed in the middle of the two teams roughly where Iggy stopped Carl and each crouched down, preparing for the inevitable “Hike” from Lip, who played quarterback.

“You’re going down, Gallagher.” Mickey said as he crouched down in front of Ian.

“Only one going down is you, Milkovich,” he said, already in the correct position. He took a split second to glance at either side of him to make sure no one was looking, and then threw a wink in Mickey’s direction.

“Hike!” Lip yelled as Kevin snapped the ball to him.

Kevin popped up and placed his forearm against Joey to make sure he didn’t go after Lip. Carl was doing his best to stop Joey. But Mandy wasn’t being blocked by any one and she tried going after Lip. Ian snuck past Mickey and ran down the field, hoping that Lip would get the hint and throw him the ball. He chucked the ball just in time because Mandy was about to tackle him. The ball sunk into Ian’s hands and he ran for the end zone. Mickey wasn’t quick enough to stop him so Kevin and the Gallagher’s got the first touchdown.

A few touchdowns later and the score was 3-2, the Milkovichs were ahead. Joey was the quarterback for their team and when he yelled “Hike”, he passed the ball to his sister, picked her up and carried her toward their goal. The other team would have stopped them but it was such an odd move that they got distracted. It shouldn’t have been allowed but who was going to tell them that move was illegal?

After that touchdown, Kevin and the Gallaghers put it in gear and scored three more touchdowns and the Milkovichs got one more. They were both tied and both one point away from bragging rights. They were all tired and panting hard. Everyone was able to see their breath it was so cold and yet, several of them had shrugged out of their winter coats and tossed them to the sidelines where Veronica, Fiona, Debbie, Liam, and KJ stood cheering and shivering.

One point left. They lined up and the Milkovichs had the ball. Joey hiked to Iggy, Mickey ran out wide and waited for the ball to reach him, he had Ian right on his heels. The ball soared through the air and landed in Mickey’s hands.

Ian wasn’t going to let him score though; he just couldn’t let him win. So, he lunged forward, grabbed Mickey’s waist and held on tight as they both tumbled to the ground. But it was too little, too late. Mickey was already at their end of field.

Final score 6-5. Milkovichs won.

In the distance, Ian could hear Iggy, Joey, and Mandy starting to sing _We Are The Champions_ and the groans of his own family members. He rolled off of Mickey and onto the cold ground. Mickey stood up, gave him the finger and went over to celebrate with his family. Lip and Kevin jogged over to help him up.

“Touch football, Ian, touch. Not tackle.” Kevin told him.

“Yeah, uh,” Ian said with a little laugh in his voice. “Sorry about that, Kev.”

“Mmhmm,” Lip said, raising an eyebrow at his brother while he lit up and inhaled warm air from the cigarette. Debbie came over then to hand the boys their jackets.

“Thanks Debs,” they all replied, slipping into their coats.

“Hey, so what did we win?” Joey shouted over to Kevin.

“Uh, whatever beer is left over there,” he told them.

Mickey walked over with his brothers and grabbed one last beer before they took the rest. “So you guys are going over to Kyle’s for the weekend?” he asked. Kyle was one of their drug dealers.

“Yeah, why don’t you wanna come with?” Iggy asked him.

“Because fuck you, that’s why.  I wanted the house this weekend, sue me.”

“Kay, see you in a few days.” Joey said. And with that, Iggy and Joey left.

Kevin, Lip, and Ian were already throwing snow on the fire to put it out when Mickey came back over. Within a couple of minutes, all the heat was gone.

“I think we’re gonna head out,” Fiona said to Ian.

“Okay, thanks for the party, guys.” Ian said as he hugged all of his family again and kissed the kids and Fiona on the sides of their heads.

Veronica and Debbie each had their dishes, Carl and Fiona were carrying chairs, and Lip and Mandy held Liam’s hand on the walk back home and everyone once in a while they would lift him up and swing him a bit, and Kevin was holding KJ and watching his kid play with the football. The only ones left were Mickey and Ian.

“So,” Mickey said. “You staying at my place again?”

“Yep,” Ian replied and started walking the six blocks back to Mickey’s house. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and his lighter that were buried in his jacket, held the white stick between his lips, flicked the lighter and covered the flame. When it finally lit up, he inhaled and exhaled a few puffs and then handed it over to Mickey.

For a while, they just walked in silence. However, on the South side, it’s never pin drop silent. In the distance, sirens from cops or firefighters could be heard, or maybe some shouting from a few streets over. Occasionally a car would pass by but other than that, they were alone on the street. But they walked back to the Milkovich house without talking, just trading the cigarette back and forth while watching the snow fall.

Every time Mickey passed the cigarette back to Ian, he noticed that there was a sweet taste left on the filter. Each inhale of smoke would be met with that slight hint of– Ian didn’t know. Just knew that he wanted to find out. He did a quick sweep of the area, making sure that they were the only two on the street. Confirming that they were, Ian turned to face Mickey, dragged him back and pushed him against one of the chain link fences. One of Ian’s hands quickly ran down Mickey’s side, past his ribs and his hips, down to wear his leg bent and dragged his knee up. Ian gripped the other boy’s calf and pulled himself in closer so he could be flush against the other body. The fingers from his other hand curled around Mickey’s neck and his thumb pushed his jaw up so his lips were at the right angle. He cocked his head slightly to the right and pressed his lips against Mickey’s.

At first he went rigid, surprised by Ian’s quickness and how he was pinned down. He reached down to smack Ian’s hand away that was holding his leg up, placed a hand on the redhead’s hip and spun them so Ian was forced back against the fence. Mickey opened his mouth to him and, dropping the stub of the cigarette in the snow near the fence, and curled his hand around the back Ian’s neck, grazing the short strands of his military haircut.

Typically Ian is the one who is dominant in the bedroom and Mickey is dominant on the street, but this, _this_ is where a winner has yet to be called. This was sort of a gray area.  And they’d fight until a victor was announced.

Ian laughed into the kiss about the sudden change in position but returned the ferocity. For the next minute, tongues wrestled, hips grinded, and hands fingered through strands of hair. And for that minute, Ian forgot why they were making out in the middle of the sidewalk in the first place. Coming back to consciousness, Ian arched his back off the fence, and pressed Mickey back against the fence again, never removing his lips from Mickey’s or his fingers from that pale neck.

It wasn’t until Ian bit Mickey’s bottom lip and ran his tongue across it that Ian finally figured out what that sweet flavor was. He let go of his lip and craned his neck back to look at Mickey.

“Why do you taste like cherry?”

“It’s chapstick,” Mickey said. “What? I can’t wear chapstick now?” It’s been cold out lately and his lips kept cracking. He couldn’t help himself from gnawing on it until he started to taste the blood. So one day when Ian went to give Linda her lunch, he stole some chapstick. Then he decided to pay for it. He wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the fact that he could have gotten fired.

“I didn’t say that. I–”

“It’s been fuckin’ freezing. My balls are practically shriveling right now.”

“Bullshit.” Ian smirked and ground his hips against Mickey’s and the chain link fence creaked in response to the added pressure.

A smile snuck up on Mickey’s face, which he tried to hide by biting his bottom lip, because the redhead was right. He was hard but he was also freezing; a terrible combination.

“Would you get the hell off me?” he asked, though it was more of a command.

Ian untangled himself and kept on walking towards the Milkovich house. He didn’t want to walk though, he wanted to run. He wanted to feel the bite of cold air on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mickey picking up his pace. Apparently he had the same idea.

First it was just speed walking but that turned into an all-out race. Feet were pounding the pavement, trying their best to avoid icy patches and slush. Ian started getting ahead and Mickey picked up his pace. Mickey extended his arm and shoved at Ian a bit, who had to twist back to avoid ramming into a car. That ‘almost spill’ distracted Ian enough to earn Mickey a few feet’s distance. But Ian was fast and in no time at all he was back up with Mickey. Ian wasn’t just going to lie down and take that shove from him, though. He reached over and pushed at Mickey’s shoulder hard enough to force him off course and have to quickly jump over a tricycle that some kid left out. Ian got unlucky and his foot found some ice, he slipped a little and lost the distance he just gained. They were both tied again.

Ian had his toned, muscular legs from all those drills in the army. All those suicides, lunges and squats; they only helped push him farther, faster. Mickey didn’t have army training. What he did have was years of outrunning the police.

Just a block of road left until they reached their destination, cold wind smacking them in the face the whole time but the rush of it all kept their bodies warm. Both panting hard but that didn’t stop them. There was going to be a winner, but who was it going to be?

“You’re gonna lose, Gallagher,” Mickey called out as he pulled ahead.

“Only in your dreams, Milkovich,” Ian replied, closing the gap.

Across the street, the house came in to sight. Half glances in either direction from both of them and they were crossing the street, and bursting through the fence. Ian was ahead by a hair, if that, and taking the steps two at a time. But Mickey was right on his heels.

Ian reached the front door first, trying to resist the urge to double over. His heart was pounding in his ears and it was only then that he realized how cold it really was outside. The air that reached his lungs burned. Mickey was already at the door, turning the knob when Ian caught his breath.

In the house with the door closed, they looked at each other and burst into fits of laughter. Ian rested his back against one of the walls while Mickey leaned back against the door and just laughed because they just ran six blocks, chasing each other like they were in preschool. Tears almost coming out of both of their eyes and in both of their minds, they took a second to think back to when they had laughed this hard. It had been a little over four years. That day in the alley after Mickey beat up Lloyd. Ah, good times.

“Beat you,” Ian huffed out with a coy smile on his face. He looked over at Mickey, began straightening up, and started walking over towards the other boy.

“Yeah, only because I let you,” Mickey said as he smiled, licked and then bit his bottom lip. His back was resting against the door, legs barely holding him up from running, eyes roaming up and down the figure coming towards him.

“Yeah, bullshit,” was the last thing Ian said before he grabbed the front of Mickey’s jacket and pushed him back against the door with his body. He planted his lips against the other set, noting there was still a slight hint of cherry on them. Ian moved from his mouth to work down one side of his jaw. Going even lower, he yanked down that green scarf and found the spot where Mickey’s pulse was on his neck and began nibbling there. On his lips, he could feel the other boy’s heartbeat. It was racing. Whether it was because of the running or from what Ian was doing, he didn’t know but he smiled when he thought about the latter and went back to moving his mouth around on pale skin.

Mickey could feel Ian’s tongue tracing along the side of his neck. He had to bite his lip to stop the noises from coming out but he was sure that Ian could feel the vibrations on his tongue. That feeling was confirmed when he felt Ian’s airy laugh cooling over the wetness of his neck. Ian was pressing bruises into Mickey’s hip trying keeping him back against the door and kept rubbing his hips into Mickey’s, making him harder and harder by the second. If Ian kept it up, Mickey would have come undone right there, and Mickey couldn’t have that happen just yet. So he reached around until he found some part of the body holding him against the door and shoved him off. Ian stumbled back several feet and gaped at the other boy.

They stared at each other for a minute, chests heaving, hearts racing, but their faces did not portray the same emotion. Ian’s face was painfully confused whereas Mickey’s face, his face was hard to read. He looked away from the redhead and reached for the doorknob that was behind. Ian was afraid that he was going to get kicked out. For what he had no clue.

“Sorry, Mickey, I–” he started to say but just then he heard the door lock click and Mickey’s face turned back and had the most devious look.

His eyes, that were just visible underneath black eyebrows, were practically navy blue they were so dark. His smile, a crooked half-smile, made him look like he was predator staring directly at his prey. His nose was pulled up on one side and there was a snarl threatening to break out of his throat.

There’s that moment right before the rubber band snaps, the green flag waves at a race, the curtains go up and the concert starts. That moment that is filled with so much tension that it’s palpable. That moment that is filled with so much anticipation you can feel something buzzing in your ears. This is that moment.

“Take off all of your clothes,” Mickey said simply. No anger was threaded into his voice, nor pleasure. It was just a simple sentence.

“I was just–” he started but then realized that Mickey wasn’t trying to argue. “Wait, what?”

“Take. Off. All. Of. Your. God. Damned. Clothes.”

The rubber band snapped. The green flag waved. The curtains went up. And clothes were ripped off.

Their jackets fell to the floor in the front entry way, numerous layers of shirts were strewn about the room or hung off of pieces of furniture. Two pairs of shoes were kicked off and abandoned. They were finally reaching for their belts when they stumbled over to the couch. Jeans and boxers pulled off and were thrown carelessly to the other side of the room.

Before Ian through his bottoms away, he fished a condom out of his wallet and slipped it on as he watched Mickey bend over the couch, placing one knee down on the cushioned seat and then the other a sufficient distance apart. He felt his cock twitch in his hand at the sight. He wanted to just push himself inside of Mickey right then and there but figured since they have the whole house to themselves for the weekend, why bother making things go too fast? So instead, Ian ran a thumb down that pale, bony spine until it ran in between his cheeks and found that place where it puckers. He massaged little circles around it for a bit before he let some spit dribble out and fall around his thumb. Pushing his wet thumb in, he could have sworn he heard some contented sighs from Mickey. With that, he started pulling his thumb all of the way out and pushing it back in again. The entire time he’s reveling in how much his thumb was being squeezed.

Mickey on the other hand was of course enjoying it, but felt that things were moving too slow. So when Ian got close again, he bucked back real hard. Then he felt a hand on his ass and was suddenly shoved into the back of the couch. Ian apparently got the hint because the next thing that Mickey felt was the thumb being pulled away and two long, wet fingers being pushed inside. It wasn’t what he wanted but he closed his eyes and smiled at Ian slowly scissoring him open.

While he was moving his index and his middle finger inside, Ian started stroking himself, matching the rhythm of his fingers. He twisted his wrist on the upstroke, glided his fingers over the tip, and pulled his hand back down. Next to the other two fingers, Ian pushed in a third and tightened the grip on his cock. He bent down and dropped some more spit around his fingers as he thrust them in.

“C’mon Gallagher,” Mickey growled as he pushed back into Ian’s fingers one more time.

“Alright, alright,” Ian laughed as he stepped away. “Get on your back.”

“Yes, sir,” Mickey said to which Ian just rolled his eyes. So, he laid down on the couch, placed a pillow behind his head, and waited for that familiar pressure.

Ian lifted up Mickey’s leg and rested his calf on his shoulder, lined his hips up with the other ones, pressed the tip right up against that tight pucker, and watched the other boy’s reaction as he pushed inside. The smile on his face faded and he bit his bottom lip, his eyes fluttered slightly, and his hands went to find something to hold on to. Inch by inch, Ian pushed himself in until he was at the hilt. He allowed Mickey a second to readjust and then asked if he was good.

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” was his response.

Ian looked down and watched himself slowly pulling out until just the head was inside, then looked back up and slammed into him. Mickey’s back arched, his eyes closed, and he let out a moan.

“Yeah, just like that,” he sighed. Mickey opened his eyes to see Ian pulling back out again and reaching down to place a hand on his hip and felt Ian’s other hand curl around and tighten on his thigh. The next feeling was all pleasure because when the redhead pushed back in again, he hit that spot. His back lifted off the couch again, eyes shut, bottom lip bit, his toes curled, and he tensed up around the cock inside of him.

Ian got a crooked smile on his face and rammed into the other set of hips again. Seeing the same reaction, he started pumping into the body below him harder and faster. Every single time he pushed all the way in he made sure to hit that bundle of nerves because the reaction was such a turn on to watch and to feel. He looked down to see Mickey’s cock, so hard that the veins were protruding, bouncing up and down and leaking precome on his stomach. So, he let his hand fall from holding up Mickey’s leg to swab some of the precome on his thumb and then he rested his knuckles on the other boy’s lower abdomen and with his thumb, stroked the length of that long and hard flesh that looked so desperate to be touched.

Mickey loved everything that Ian was doing, he was only letting out half of the moans that wanted to escape, but that thumb thing that was happening was driving him the most insane. It was so close to a feather touch that Mickey felt like he was imagining that it was happening. Maybe it felt so light because what he really wanted was some tight-fisted pumping so he could get off.

Ian knew that Mickey was on the edge of letting go, and he was too, but it was far too soon to unravel now. So he decided to coax Mickey back down by slowing down his thrusting and only going at the slow pace that his thumb was. He couldn’t help but watch himself sliding in and out of that boy, he was so tight and so warm all stretched around him. Every once in a while, he could feel Mickey’s cock twitch and saw a little more precome spill out which he scooped up, smoothed over, and continued stroking.

“Ian…”  

It was a quiet voice that said that name. That voice sounded like a moan and whisper all at the same time. It was desperate and slightly hesitant, too. But that voice was something different than anything Ian had ever heard. That voice was pure need.

And it was what Ian needed to snap him out of his reverie. He looked up and saw what can only be described as pure lust in Mickey’s eyes.  He nodded his head the slightest bit in acknowledgement and started to work them back to that cliff.

Ian smeared his hand in whatever precome was left on Mickey’s stomach, curled his hand around that milky flesh, and started pumping hard. He then continued moving his hips in time with his hand. But it wasn’t just Mickey being worked to his release, Ian was too. The harder Ian pumped, the tighter Mickey squeezed. It would occasionally cause a hitch in his breathing, as if it weren’t already unsteady enough.

So he watched as Mickey arched his back off the sofa, jammed his eyes shut, gnawed on his bottom lip, and after a few more quick thrusts, came all over Ian’s hand and body and his own torso. The feeling of Mickey letting go lead to his own release, grunting as he did so, inside of his condom. A few more lazy pumps in and Ian finally pulled but quickly regretted the decision because he was already missing that heat.

 He sat back against the couch and pulled the condom off, made a knot in it, and tossed near where he thought the trash was. Then Ian noticed that there was a bit of come still on the webbing of his thumb and index finger and there was some on his chest, too. He brought his hand up to his mouth and tasted that bitter flavor of Mickey Milkovich. Deciding the he liked it, he reached down and grabbed some off his chest and stuck his fingers back in his mouth. He stilled for a second when he remembered that he wasn’t the only one in the room. Turning his head, he saw Mickey, one foot on the floor, the other draped over the couch with both of his hands under his head, staring at him, still biting that bottom lip and had a goofy, crooked smile on his face.

“No, no, keep going,” Mickey told him.

But there wasn’t much left on his body. His eyes left Mickey’s and trailed down his neck, which was already showing signs of bruising, to his chest and his stomach where there were jets of wet smeared. He lifted off of the couch and started crawling up the other boy’s body, slowly passing his knees, his waist and bending down, leaving his ass in the air, and stuck his tongue out to gather up some of that still hot, sticky stuff. Moving from his stomach up to his chest, Ian licked and sucked making sure that he didn’t miss any of that salty stuff. His blue-green eyes never leaving Mickey’s as he cleaned up the mess that was covering that pale-colored, toned, and scarred body.

Ian was finally all the way up to those lip- and teeth-bitten lips, ghosting over them, unsure whether or not Mickey would want to taste himself in Ian’s mouth. He was about to pull away when he felt a hand on the back of his neck pulling him forward. Closing their eyes and opening their mouths, their tongues wrestled for a while until Ian caught that swollen lip in between his teeth and pulled back ever so slightly, still tasting that cherry chapstick. He let it go when he felt that lip stretch and saw Mickey smiling causing him to smile too.

“Bed,” Ian asked.

“Sure thing,” Mickey told him.

Ian stood up and started walking back towards the bedroom when Mickey said something.

“Wait!”

“What,” Ian responded as he turned back and looked at Mickey, still lying on the couch with his head twisted back and looking at Ian through his dark eyebrows.

“Carry me?”

“You’re joking, right,” he asked skeptically.

“C’mon soldier. There’s a man down over here and you’re not willing to carry him?”

Surely this kid must be joking. Ian sighed and rolled his eyes but walked back over and placed one hand under Mickey’s knees, one under his back, and straightened up.

“Jesus, Mickey, would you lay off the Pringles?” Ian huffed out. Mickey just laughed.

In the room, Ian tossed Mickey into his bed and crawled in afterwards, still tasting cherry chapstick on his lips as he and Mickey fell asleep. 


End file.
